How Shall One Don a Missing Hat?
by Lilac Papillon
Summary: MGAT fic. Genius golfer Gene Yuss is known for many things: being an extraordinary champ, having a swollen head, and having a fashionable hat to fit it on. When his hat suddenly disappears, Kid’s dragged into helping poor Gene find it!
1. OMG! WHERE IS MY HAT?

**How Shall One Don A Missing Hat? **

**A/N:** I was busy doodling a few shots of Gene and Kid without their hats, and I had one shot of Gene reaching over to grab his hat, but it wasn't there, and lo, behold, an idea quickly crawled into my mind…also, expect OOC-ness. Why do you think I put this in parody? 

**Disclaimer:** If you actually THINK I own Mario Golf (Advance Tour), Mario, anything from Nitendo or Camelot, and golf itself, you need to reread the title of this website we're on.

* * *

_What in Princess Peach's name… _

From a doubles room in the Links lounge, a figure stirred as the sunlight that was peeking through his window moved ever so closer towards his face.

_Wait a minute…_

Gene Yuss grumbled and slapped a hand over his eyes, turning around so that his face was turned away from the morning light. He still wondered, though; why was the sun shining on his face if the window was shining from the left of his bed at his feet?

The disturbed golfer grunted, and forced one of his blue eyes open, immediately closing it. Well, that certainly explained why he didn't feel a pillow underneath his head; his feet were rested on his pillow and his head at the end of his bed!

_Confound it all!_ he cursed, sitting up and stretching as he yawned. _And I wanted to sleep in today! Well, might as well get up. _

He tilted his head around, groaned, and placed a hand on his neck, which was rather stiff. Standing up, he did all things necessary that people did when they woke up, before slipping into a white shirt, purplish pants, long socks and brown golf shoes. He knocked on the door that lead to another room, which belonged to his golf doubles partner, Kid. "Kid, are you up?" Gene called, running a comb through his brown hair.

No answer. "Kid? Why…how dare he go on the golf course without informing The Gene!" Gene scoffed, having developed a habit for saying his name plenty of times. He smirked and grabbed one of his red vests from his clothes closet. "Now, to go out and find that pest, and beat him. First, I need my hat."

While he slipped the sweater over his head, he looked at a couple of picture frames on his drawer cabinets. Several medals, ribbons and a trophy glittered on it. There were a couple of pictures of him, a few of them when he was younger. In most of the pictures, he was tilting the hat set on his head. Before it used to be black. Now, it was a reddish-brown.

"Ah, my glorious days with a snappy-looking hat," he said proudly, giving a smug smile as he turned away and admired himself in the mirror. "Well, looking very charming, as usual, Gene," he smirked, "but you're missing something. Ah, of course! The hat that makes you what you are."

With that he extended his hand in a direction of a hook placed on the wall for his hat…or, where he _thought_ he'd put it.

All he grasped was air. "What the – " Gene said, blinking and turning around to stare at the hook. Confused when he didn't see his beloved hat, he rubbed a hand over his eyes, making sure he wasn't dreaming. "Impossible! But…but I put it there."

For a moment, confusion filled his head. He gave a laugh and smacked his forehead lightly. "Now I remember!" he acknowledged. "I put it on the counter next to my bed." He turned his head over to it, only to find a lamp, a clock, and nothing else. "Or not."

A bit concerned now, he looked back in his closet, then checked his bed. "I could've sworn I put my hat in here somewhere!" he said. He smirked again. "Pfft, it probably was kicked under the bed."

Panic and desperation attacked him as he found only discarded Sport Star Golf Issue magazines and posters of himself that he didn't bother putting on his walls. "Okay, where is it, where is it?" he gasped, standing up and swinging open the doors of his closet wardrobe, and soon a dozen shirts and other clothes littered the floor. "No! No no no no no no! I couldn't have lost it! The Gene NEVER loses anything! Never! Ever! This can't be! I must be dreaming or hallucinating."

After about twenty minutes of frantic and ridiculous searching (including actually checking the lamp, under his pillow, and waving his hand about a dozen times around the metal hat hook), he was completely crestfallen. "No, no, NO!" he shrieked, falling on his bed. "I…I can't believe I lost my hat! This can't be! This so cannot be!"

He gave a gasp and snapped his fingers. "Hey, I'll use my other hat!" he said. "Case closed!"

Then it hit him. "But I _don't_ have another hat!" Gene bawled, resuming his sulking. "I knew I shouldn't have left my black hat back at home! No! Noooo!" He suddenly narrowed his eyes. "Somebody must've stolen it! Yes, that must've been the case! What if _Kid_ stole it? He is immature." He snarled. "Boy, I'll beat him to a bloody pulp if that's the case!

_Why would he want your hat when he has his own? Be reasonable, Gene,_ a voice said inside his head.

"Who cares about being reasonable?" Gene yelled, and stood up, turning the handle on Kid's door. "He's played the prank before. If that prank is the one being used now, well, he's dead!"

- - -

Kid immediately assumed the worse as he heard crashes and objects breaking inside the Links Doubles room that he and Gene were staying in. His hand was shaking near the doorknob. "Okay, Kid, calm down," the man wearing a black baseball cap, a red shirt, white pants, and black golf shoes murmured, taking a few deep breaths. "I'm sure he's just a bit upset, as he sometimes is."

The doorknob turned, and Kid slammed open the door with a wide grin. "Hey, Gene, what's going on?" he called cheerfully, waving his baseball cap and opening his eyes. He suddenly screamed, backing away three steps as he saw all the numerous objects covering the floor. "WHOA! Okay, uh, Gene, are you SURE a tornado didn't hit here?"

A distressed screech came from Kid's room, and Kid's face of shock turned into worry. "Gene? GENE! Hang on, buddy!" Kid cried, dropping his golf bag and throwing open the door to his room. Instead, a sight as monstrous as Gene's room greeted his eyes, and there was Gene, rubbing his head from banging his head under the bed in surprise. Kid glared at the other brown-haired golfer as though he was insane. "Gene, what in the name of Bowser are you trying to do?"

He screamed again as Gene suddenly lunged for him, snagging his collar and roaring, "Alright, talk! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY HAT, YOU FIEND?"

"Your…your HAT?" Kid spluttered, dumbfounded as his jaw fell open.

"YES, MY HAT!" Gene retorted furiously, glaring daggers at Kid, who was rather scared. "If this is one of your little 'harmless' pranks, I'M GONNA BREAK ALL THE BONES IN YOUR BODY, GIVE YOU A ONE-WAY TRIP TO THE HOSPITAL, AND CUT OFF YOUR – "

"Gene, get a hold of yourself!" Kid yelled, slapping Gene twice across the face and wriggling free of Gene's crazed grasp. "Why would I would your hat anyway?" He straightened out his shirt. "And what is with your temper?"

"Are you saying that I have a short temper? Hmm?" Gene growled, his knuckles white.

"Er…yeah! Yes, you do! Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed or something?"

"As a matter of fact, I did! Afterwards, I got dressed, and was about to get my hat, when I suddenly realized that it wasn't there!"

"Well, I didn't take it! Besides, why would I take it, if I already have this?" Kid groused, waving his cap in front of Gene's face before placing it back on his head. "And now you know."

Gene suddenly started bawling, tears streaming down his face. "My hat! It's gone! Gone, I tell you! Gooooooone!" he wailed, collapsing on his knees and burying his face in his hands. "The Gene is doomed!"

Kid tried not to back away (at least, very far away) from his roomie. "Gene, calm down," Kid reassured him. "It's not the Links title, it's a hat!"

"You don't understand!" Gene sobbed, grabbing one of the many Kleenex boxes scattered on the ground and pulling out a few tissues. "This hat meant more that my Links title! It was the cause for my Links title!"

"You…you're kidding me," Kid muttered, raising his eyebrows as Gene blew into the tissue and making a dreadful honking sound. "It's a hat! It can't make you win Links titles! Don't male such a big fuss about it!"

When he looked back at Gene's face, he sighed and hoisted his crazy doubles partner back on his feet. "Well, I guess it's not my place to comment on…your…relationship…with your hat," Kid said sympathetically, trying to phrase whatever he was saying correctly. Gene glared at him before plunking himself back on his bed and whimpering.

"I swear, whoever stole my hat…will pay!" Gene growled angrily, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hand.

"Are you sure it's not in here?" Kid questioned, and looked around. "Or…under all this stuff?"

"I checked," Gene retorted, annoyed with Kid for not taking his issue seriously. "I have to find my hat! The Gene will not rest until that hat is back on my head, safe and sound!"

"Gene, I really think – " Kid started, but before he could finish, Gene's arms were around him, and the man was laughing with joy while Kid blinked in utter shock.

"Oh, thank you thank you thank you thank you soooooooo much!" Gene cried, practically snuffing out all the oxygen out of Kid. "I am eternally grateful to you!"

"That's what you said when I won us the Links title," Kid gasped, trying to get out of Gene's grip. "And I never said – "

"Why are just standing here?" Gene said, letting go of Kid and opening the door, golf bag swung over his shoulder. "Let's go find that imbecile who stole my hat!"

"But – " Kid stammered, raising a finger. "But I just said – "

"That you'd help me, I know!" Gene grinned. He made an attempt to crack his knuckles. "Once I find the thief, he will regret stealing from The Ge – ow! Okay, not doing that ever again," he murmured, shaking his hand and staring at it weirdly.

Kid sighed and slapped his forehead. "Okay, fine, I'll help you!" he screeched. "But don't go overboard, got it?"

"Yes, Kid, fine," Gene said. "Now let's GO!"

With that, he grabbed Kid's shirt and dragged him out the Links lounge.

* * *

**To Be Conti – **

Gene: NO! I need to find my hat! NOW!

**...nued...**


	2. Ridiculing the Ridiculous

**How Shall One Don A Missing Hat?**

"_M'lord, Act Two!" _

"_Gesundheit." The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (abridged)_

* * *

"Hey, guys!" Kid said, waving to the fellow Club Champs at their lounge.

Putts and Joe looked up and waved. "Why, hello, Kid!" Putts greeted cheerfully. He put down his hand. "You're just in time. Tiny won't give me any assistance, as Joe here has placed his feet on the table." He glared at his Marion Doubles partner. "What disrespect and lack of etiquette for the lounge of the great ones!"

Joe shrugged. "Dude, it's a free country!" he protested, sitting up and slapping away Putts' hand as he tried to shove Joe's feet off. He slumped back on the black couch. "There's no rule about feet on tables!"

"It's disrespectful and shows your lack of etiquette and manners!"

"Spaghetti and what?" Joe repeated, raising an eyebrow as he lowered his sunglasses in a questioning manner.

Putts groaned and slapped his forehead. "Just get your filthy shoes off the table!" he complained.

"Like, chill, Putts," Joe sighed, giving a relaxed smile and pushing his sunglasses back over his eyes. "I'm not breaking a law or anything."

"Tiny, please, I beg of you to do something about him!" Putts begged, turning his head towards the burly man.

Tiny shrugged. "He provides very good arguments," he said. "There is no law about putting feet on tables!"

"No, really?" Kid interjected flatly. He shot Putts a smirk. "Actually, there is."

"What?" Tiny and Joe said, staring at Kid.

The legendary golfer grinned and nodded. "Yup!" he said. "In some countries, you could go to jail for putting your feet on the table, right, Putts?"

The blond golfer opened his mouth in confusion, but Kid quickly winked at Putts. Putts gasped in realization before giving a smirk and an affirmative nod. "Kid speaks the truth!" he agreed.

Joe shot Kid and Putts confused faces, before his eyes fearfully shifted towards Tiny. With a grumble, the brown-haired golfer-dancer adjusted his posture and placed his feet on the ground. "So…" he began slowly. "Anybody here danced through a recent challenge?"

"Yep!" Kid said, and gave a big sigh as he plunked himself next to Putts. "I have to put up with a really irritating – not to mention humiliating – problem! See, I – "

"Yeah!" Tiny said, cracking his knuckles. "Yeah, I had to do that, too! Some wussy little punks were bad-mouthin' me at the Dunes Course!"

"Oh, dear, I feel sorry for those wussy little punks," Putts murmured with a shake of his head, almost instinctively standing up and sitting next to Kid's left so that Kid was near Tiny.

"Sorry?" Tiny repeated, hearing Putt's little side remark. Putts gulped but relaxed as Tiny said, "Yeah, me too! I mean, if Azalea got her hands on them – "

"Whuzzat?" Joe interrupted, looking up. "Azzy was gonna beat up somebody?"

"Hey, if I was called…whatever those punks called her, I'd beat the living daylights outta those mice!" Tiny told him. He cleared his throat and folded his arms, looking back at Kid. "So, did you have to deal with that problem, Kid?"

"Er, not really," Kid answered, and placed his fingers against his head. "See, Gene – "

"Ah, speaking of which, where is Gene anyway?" questioned Putts.

"Hold on, let me talk, and, well, I think he's still out somewhere in the Marion course or so," Kid returned. "Last I heard, he was complaining that nobody was gonna notice him if he didn't find his – "

"Whoa, nobody noticing 'The Gene'?" Joe scoffed, using quotation marks with his fingers. "Yeah, right! Anybody can see him with his smirk and that hat of his."

Kid frowned. "Yeah, speaking of hats, I was just saying that Gene – " he continued.

"Kid!" cried Gene, suddenly jumping in the Club Champs' lounge. He threw his arm forward and pointed a finger at Kid. "You're supposed to be helping me find my hat, you imbecile!"

"Somebody shoot him," Kid hissed under his breath, tired of being interrupted.

"Hey, who are you?" Putts asked, narrowing his eyes at Gene. "I'm sorry, but you can only be here if you have a title."

"Yeah, so scram, you lil' shrimp!" Tiny growled, standing up and cracking his knuckles again. "Or I'll squash you, like the little bug you are!"

Gene's eye twitched and he gritted his teeth. _Oh, crud,_ Kid thought, looking away nervously.

"Putts, Tiny, it's _ME!"_ the genius golfer roared, smacking Putts and Tiny across the faces, then diving behind Kid as Tiny turned towards him furiously.

"Hold the phone! Yuss?" Tiny gasped, his eyes widening in shock as his anger diminished. "Seriously, am I dreaming? You're not Gene! You're just an imposter!"

"B-but – " Gene argued, raising a finger in the air to explain his dilemma.

"I do believe it is Gene, Tiny," Putts corrected, staring at Gene. "Though, you look different…I got it! Is that a new vest?"

"No way, Putts, he got new shoes!" Tiny said, and snatched Gene's leg, pulling it up and causing Gene to grab a hold of the couch as not to be dangled by his foot. "See? I was right! They're more brown-ish than orange-ish, like his other shoes!"

"I think they look a bit more beige…" Putts murmured, observing the shoe. He shook his head. "Nope, you were correct, Tiny, they seem more auburn than orange…ish."

"Putts, man, I think Gene just ain't wearing that hat he always wears," Joe pointed out. He bent down and shot Gene a thumbs-up, then considered Gene's current position and did a sideways thumbs-up instead. "Which I think is pretty groovy, man; change is good! Well…despite the fact that it's kinda weird, since the hat's, like, part of you…and sometimes change isn't good…"

Gene's eye started twitching again as he was released from Tiny's grip and sat up. Kid smacked a hand against his forehead and tried ignoring a sideways glance from the self-righteous golfer. "I told you they wouldn't recognize me…" Gene growled through the side of his mouth.

"No kidding," Kid muttered, looking up and wondering why nobody seemed to have any common sense at the precise moment. "Well, see, Gene lost his hat – "

"No, The Gene did NOT lose his hat!" Gene snapped, slapping a hand over Kid's mouth. He gave a nervous chuckle before clearing his throat and clenching his fist. "The Gene's hat was STOLEN!"

"That's horrible!" Putts gasped. "Despite the fact, yes, it is an inanimate object" – here Gene shot Putts a threatening glance, but Putts ignored this and continued on – "a theft is still theft, and is a terrible crime."

"What is with all this talk 'bout authority?" Joe groaned, throwing his arms in the air and (unknown to his actions) placed his feet on the table again, much to Putts' chagrin. "This law and rules stuff is boring me! Rules are meant to be broken."

"I hate people who disrespect authority!" Putts scowled, shoving Joe's shoes off the table. "Rules control our well-being. If everything was pure anarchy, there would be chaos of unspeakable horror!"

"English, Professor Putts?" Joe joked, smirking.

"This isn't about Joe, this is about The Gene and The Gene's hat!" Gene said, a hand heading towards his head to tip his hat, when Gene just remembered that, well, he didn't have his hat. He slammed his fist into the palm of his hand. "I will have my revenge!"

"It's all about you and revenge, isn't it, Gene?" Kid sighed, who was caught up in a Sports Star Golf magazine about Monty Moles infesting several courses again.

"'Since brevity is the soul of wit, I will be brief; he is mad,'" Putts whispered.

Kid had no idea what Shakespeare piece that came from, but from that quote itself, it did seem as though Gene had gone off his rocker. "C'mon, Gene, we haven't checked the Palms Club yet," he said, poking Gene and standing up. "Hey, if you guys hear of Gene's hat, you know what to do."

"Sell it to his fans!" Tiny joked, snickering and slamming hands with Joe (which was a mistake as the golfer of, apparently, bad manners, yelped and shook his hand helplessly, placing it in his other hand and wincing).

"THAT'S _NOT_ FUNNY!" Gene shrieked, his eyes widening in horror as he whirled his head around to face Tiny, who just stared at Gene pitifully.

Kid felt his eye twitch twice before he dragged Gene off. "He was only joking, Gene," he muttered in his ear. "Get a hold of yourself, for crying out loud!"

"You do NOT joke about The Gene OR any of my other personal belongings at desperate times like this!" Gene said. He stared at Kid. "I cannot believe how disillusioned you are right now! Have you no consideration of others' grief and despair?"

"Somebody shoot me," Kid whimpered, burying his face in his hands as Gene walked out of the Marion Clubhouse.

* * *

**To Be Continued…**


	3. The Four Musketeers

**How Shall One Don A Missing Hat?**

* * *

"That was embarrassing and just completely stupid."

"It looked like my hat! What, do I just go up to him and ask him, 'Excuse me, good sir, but by any chance are you wearing my hat?'"

"It would've been less awkward than beating the crud outta him and demanding an explanation for 'hat pilfering of The Gene' when the hat CLEARLY wasn't yours, you idiot!" Kid seethed, clawing his baseball cap frustratingly. "Gee, I wonder what this Sports Star Golf Issue is gonna say about you this time! How about 'The Gene – Lost His Head, or His Hat?'"

"Do shut up, Kid," Gene retorted, lifting his arm up to tilt his hat when it stopped midway and returned back to the obnoxious man's side. "You are not making the situation any better."

"Reports have indicated that former Links champ Gene Yuss has been going around several areas in the Marion Golfing Community, demanding to know of what has happened with his hat," Kid started, pretending to write on a pad of paper with a pen. "Apparently, it seems as though Gene has lost more than just his title; it appears to be that he has lost his hat, and, as others would comment snidely, his sanity as well."

"Shut up." Gene hissed, slumping as he trudged along the lush grasses of the Palms Club.

"When questioned about the loss of his supposedly most favored personal belonging, Gene claims that somebody had stolen it, despite the fact that many believe he just lost it somewhere instead of this ridiculous little folly of the infamous golfer," Kid continued.

"What part of 'shut up' don't you understand?"

"'Either Gene's just in love with this thing, or he's not getting enough sleep,' quotes a man, who was attacked by Gene from a mistaken identity of fashion and headgear."

"Do not make me hurt you, Kid!"

"'Or, he just got hit on the head with one too many golf balls.'"

At that moment a golf ball suddenly met with the back of Kid's head, causing him to yelp as his knees buckled slightly. "Ow, crud!" Kid cried, rubbing the back of his head and wincing. "Doesn't anybody know how to call out 'Fore!' these days?"

"Sorry, Kid," a voice said as the Palms Club Champ Sherry approached the two Links Club Champs. She gave a sheepish laugh and picked up the golf ball that had collided with Kid's head. "I guess I was too quiet that time."

Kid's scowl was replaced with a wry smile. "Gee, well, start making more noise, Sherry, otherwise I might get another really bad injury!" he joked, laughing with her.

It was then that Sherry noticed Gene looking around at people's hats. "Who's your friend, Kid?" she asked.

Kid shushed her with wide eyes. "Lower your voice, Sherry," he warned, noticing a woman with red hair and a sleeveless blue dress running up to them. "It's Gene, alright? If anybody else decides to ask him who the heck he is, he'll probably kill them!"

"Sherry! I told you, use an iron instead of a wood, to fade slightly, and – oh, hello, Kid!" the woman said, looking at him and giving a smile. "What brings you here?"

"Well, well, well. Grace, giving Sherry criticism, especially when you're not the Palms Club Champ anymore?" Gene said, giving a smug grin. "How sad, especially when you're using _my_ criticism for _your_ technique? I'm touched, really."

Instead of responding to his snide comment, the woman called Grace blinked and asked, "I'm sorry, but who are you? Not to sound rude, since you were rather rude to me, sir…"

Kid and Sherry exchanged nervous glances. "Hey, Grace, can I use your room as my trophy cabinet?" the younger, shorter redhead questioned, chuckling weakly.

"You should, really," Gene growled, glaring daggers at a confused Grace. "Once The Gene's done with you, I don't think you need any more luxuries."

Grace arched an eyebrow at him. Her eyes widened. "Whu – Gene?" she gasped. "I didn't notice you at first!"

"Join the club," Sherry murmured, avoiding Gene's eyes. "I dunno, I'm just used to Gene with his hat. If Kid removed his hat…yeah, I dunno, hat hair suits him, but I like you better with the hat."

Kid chuckled sheepishly. "Er, speaking of which, what happened to your hat, Gene?" Grace said, tilting her head to the side.

Gene scoffed. "My hat?" he echoed. "My hat? My hat, you say?"

"Your hat? Your hat? Yes, your hat, I say," Grace replied, feeling rather suspicious now. "What happened to it? Did the Links winds finally blow it off?"

The golfer just laughed, a bit too strong a laugh. "Well, I just…well, I feel as though that The Gene has worn the hat so many times, that I should just take a break once in a while," he explained. He gave her a smirk.

Sherry looked at Kid with a questioning face. He just shook his head and mouthed, "No."

Grace was also unmoved. She sighed and placed a hand on Gene's shoulder. "Gene, please, before you hurt something, or pass out?" she asked. "Holding in your depression is not healthy for you. So…c'mon, let's have it. Three, two…"

"My hat! It's gooooooooone!" Gene bawled, bursting into a fresh set of tears and throwing his arms around Grace, burying his face into her dress while she simply rolled her eyes.

"Well, that isn't good," she responded, patting his back sympathetically as she tried not to pass out from lack of oxygen.

"Sheesh, Gene, this is why you should pay more attention to your stuff instead of losing it!" Sherry remarked.

"But I didn't lose it!" was his sorrowful reply. He sniffed and buried his head back in Grace's dress. "It has been stolen from The Gene! Gone! Vanished! Nicked from under my nose! Looted from my laziness! Purloined before my preparation, and activating my alliteration abilities!"

"Okay, you're scaring me right now, but yeah, that's awful!" Sherry said, narrowing her eyes. "Why would anybody stoop so low?"

Kid shrugged. "I dunno," he murmured. "A lot of people kinda hate Gene."

"No, I meant who would do _this_ to _us?"_ Sherry corrected, pointing at Gene still not under control as Grace stood there, looking rather bothered at the moment.

Kid blinked, then nodded. "Okay, I'm with you there," he said. "Did you know how many people I had to ask about a missing hat? It was _humiliating!_ Absolutely humiliating! And when I try telling Yuss here to suck it up, he spazzes."

"Well, he's always been a spaz," Sherry pointed out.

"Still. I can't take anymore pointless emotional breakdowns from him! This is getting annoying."

"Leave him alone already," Grace told them, looking almost ready for a breakdown herself. "We know Gene. Alright, Gene, I'll see if I can find your hat. In fact, I think we should start a search party of…"

"One," Kid said, turning his cap backwards and placing his hands behind his head. "Count me out!"

"TRAITOR!" Gene wailed, causing Grace to flinch. "Kid, how could you do this to me?"

"Okay, okay, FINE!" Kid snapped, clawing thin air. "I'll do it! But only if somebody else besides you joins the little search party for your dearly beloved!"

"I'll join!" Sherry said, stepping next to Kid and raising her hand.

Kid's jaw fell open, and he pointed to it and to the ground to indicate his surprise. "I'm shocked, Sherry," he murmured. "You sacrifice your dignity just to help Gene find his hat?"

"Stop insulting me already!" Gene sniffed, calming down a bit and actually loosening his grip on Grace. "Can't you see The Gene is in complete helplessness as of now? How can you have such a black heart?"

Kid was about to say something else before he decided not to. "Yeah, Kid!" Sherry said, looking at him harshly. "I mean, he's your friend. And rival. But the least you could do is help somebody in need!"

The man with the red shirt stared at her for some time before he rolled his eyes and fixed his cap. "Well," he said, smiling at Sherry and then at Gene, "Sherry makes three, and I'm sorry for my actions, Gene. So…shall Grace make four?"

"Oh, no no no no no no!" Grace cried, raising her hands up in the air. "Not a chance! I'm not joining this wild goose chase! You can just report it to Lost and Found."

"Grace, I beg of you for this favor!" Gene pleaded, collapsing on his knees. He looked up at her desperately and clasped his hands. "Have mercy and find the voice inside you that tells you to help me!"

Grace was shocked, and, though a bit cruel for her, rather amused by this. "Mmm, so now The Gene, His Greatly Respected Highness of Birdies, Master of Golf and Respected By All, asks the simple, unskilled, overlooked Grace, to help him?" she acknowledged, blatantly smiling arrogantly as she stared down at him.

Gene looked away, almost as though he was about to give up something as great as all his titles combined together. "Don't push it, Grace, don't you even try pushing it with The Gene," he hissed.

Kid moved his head near Sherry's ear. "Got any popcorn on you?" he whispered. "This could take some time."

Sherry groaned. "If this keeps up, I don't think we'll even get a chance to find his hat!" she said.

"Hey, cool!"

"Kid!"

"I mean…oh, dear."

"I mean, why should I help The Gene anyway?" Grace continued wondering aloud, strutting circles around him. "After all, I'm just an amateur compared to his greatness. Unless, of course, _I'm_ also great, and he's not…"

"This is torture!" Gene whined, balling a fist. "Why, oh _why_ do you torture me so?"

"So…in order for me to accept such a great privilege and embark on such a task of sheer importance, I truly must be extraordinary!" Grace said, and looked at Gene. Her face was triumphant. "Gene, you're gonna have to do more than beg like a puppy dog," she exclaimed firmly. "That's pathetic. Show a little respect to The Grace as well, now, please?"

She waited patiently while Gene quivered with an unstable pride. Kid snickered and had his hand over his mouth while Sherry clasped her hands behind her back, shaking with mirth and suppressing a smile.

Finally, his dignity shattered, and Gene groaned. "Grace, Oh Beautiful Princess of Women's Golf and more superior than The Gene himself in many ways possible…will you help me before I kill you with my bare hands?" he grumbled, looking away from her.

Grace grinned. "Yes, Gene, thank you, I will help you," she said, patting him on the head like a kitten (much to his instant annoyance). "And then when we're done…I know you cannot be somebody else, so I won't make you stop being such a critic."

Gene cursed under his breath. "Okay, so I think we should split up in singles!" Sherry said. She winked at Kid. "To avoid stress and all."

"Thanks," Kid said. "It doesn't really help, though. So…let's split up, and meet back at the Marion Lounge Café at six o'clock sharp!"

"The four musketeers!" Sherry laughed. She raised a golf club in the air. "All for one, and…one for Gene." She looked at him. "Hey, what do we get in return?"

Gene's eyes shifted around. "Er, well, uh…" he stammered.

"Forget she asked," Grace groaned, rolling her eyes. "As Putts would say, let's sally on!"

"What the heck does 'sally' mean anyway?" Kid asked.

"I always thought it was just a name," Sherry said, shrugging.

Gene and Grace exchanged glances before scoffing haughtily and walking off. Kid and Sherry just rolled their eyes at them.

* * *

**To Be Continued…**


End file.
